When I take medication for my anxiety, I’m not taking it just for myself, but because of my mom as well. I medicate more because she doesn’t medicate at all.
Just balled my eyes out at the end of watching Arthur. The new one. I have a soft spot for Russell Brand, so I liked it more than most.
All I have left of my summer classes is one final that I have to take by Tuesday at 10p. Then a few weeks off and then fall semester.
I have a job now. Working front office at single practice dental office. Fish out of water, trying not to drown.
L* and K* are leaving tomorrow to spend a few days in America’s hat and then onto the only state that really has an upstate.
Still ironing out details when I’ll be able to visit Fisher.
This is all such sh*t. What to actually be sad about and what is left over. Dealing with not being able to deal with my mom. Oh, look, she’s falling off a cliff and there’s nothing I can do until she hits the bottom.
There are people worse off than I am. People that have gone through worse, but are dealing with it better. How do people do that- go through something terribly awful and continue on as productive members of society. Death of children, witnessing a horrible tragedy, rape- how do you deal. How do you not give up?
I wish that I had made peace with my dad when he was healthy. I made peace with him because that’s what you do with the dying. You forgive. Why can’t we do that with the living?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
american cheese singles
So, maybe is a good time to write or maybe it isn’t. Took two of my anxiety pills that make me sleepy. Maybe it will get the words flowing.
Having a hard time not letting my mom’s mental illness take me down. I feel the anxiety in my shoulders, always tense and even attempting to consciously trying to relax doesn’t work.
If it’s this hard for me to deal with this now, what’s it going to be like in the future? Will my therapy be able to keep up with her downfall? Or will it run right over me and pick me up like a snowball rolling down a hill. I’ll become a part of the mess; I’ll be indistinguishable from the illness that surrounds my mom. There’s not much left of my mom, her sanity is leaving and replaced by an alternate reality that only she sees. Our rules don’t work her in world, no one sees life the way she does.
It’s horribly depressing.
I have a high level of anxiety due to the fact that I never learned how to make myself feel ok. I look for other people to tell me that it will be ok, unable to believe myself. I’ll let you get close to me, if you tell me I’m doing good to prop me up.
It’s neither better to lose a parent through death nor mental illness. Both suck. Too watch a parent die or fade away, it sucks. Life is so trivial in the big scheme. My life in terms of all life- trivial. Life is too fucking short to be bogged down by shit. This is my only life, I want to be happy. Ok, so maybe rainbows and unicorns are too much to ask for, but how about smiles and kisses.
Missing Fisher. If it all works out, I’ll visit him in two weeks. He’ll be incredibly busy with rehearsal and no doubt grumpy when he comes home, but hopefully when we’re together it will be good.
The love a have for him is so intertwined with who I am. “You and I have memories, Longer than the road that stretches out ahead” ~Beatles.
What an effin’ job to figure out how to manage anxiety that’s been accumulating for roughly 36 years. 36 years of needing my parents to tell me whatever I needed to hear. And now I’m out of luck. Dad’s dead, Mom has lost her marbles.
So, I get to head down this road myself. Finding out how to make myself happy by myself. Just me. No validation from the peanut gallery. No boyfriend to beg for love. How about I just stay in bed?
Going forward with therapy I want to know what I’m going through. I thought I had dependency issues. Nope, I have built up anxiety. My dad ran away after the divorce, well my mom kinda chased him away. I was freaked out that I would lose her too. That she would drop me off with my grandma or an aunt and I was afraid that she'd never come back. She worked full time and took care of three girls. A teenager, a tween and me, the baby. I was potty training when my parents separated. I have vague memories of my little toilet sitting next to the big toilet in bathroom. Thank god I have no memory of shitting my diaper.
What I do remember is that my sisters were rock solid for me. They dug in their heels and did their best to protect me. Sure, L* and I fought like it was WW3, but she was right there with me eating american cheese singles in the closet while our parents fought in the kitchen. I was angry, I took it on L*. Not even angry, more like confused and unsure.
Having a hard time not letting my mom’s mental illness take me down. I feel the anxiety in my shoulders, always tense and even attempting to consciously trying to relax doesn’t work.
If it’s this hard for me to deal with this now, what’s it going to be like in the future? Will my therapy be able to keep up with her downfall? Or will it run right over me and pick me up like a snowball rolling down a hill. I’ll become a part of the mess; I’ll be indistinguishable from the illness that surrounds my mom. There’s not much left of my mom, her sanity is leaving and replaced by an alternate reality that only she sees. Our rules don’t work her in world, no one sees life the way she does.
It’s horribly depressing.
I have a high level of anxiety due to the fact that I never learned how to make myself feel ok. I look for other people to tell me that it will be ok, unable to believe myself. I’ll let you get close to me, if you tell me I’m doing good to prop me up.
It’s neither better to lose a parent through death nor mental illness. Both suck. Too watch a parent die or fade away, it sucks. Life is so trivial in the big scheme. My life in terms of all life- trivial. Life is too fucking short to be bogged down by shit. This is my only life, I want to be happy. Ok, so maybe rainbows and unicorns are too much to ask for, but how about smiles and kisses.
Missing Fisher. If it all works out, I’ll visit him in two weeks. He’ll be incredibly busy with rehearsal and no doubt grumpy when he comes home, but hopefully when we’re together it will be good.
The love a have for him is so intertwined with who I am. “You and I have memories, Longer than the road that stretches out ahead” ~Beatles.
What an effin’ job to figure out how to manage anxiety that’s been accumulating for roughly 36 years. 36 years of needing my parents to tell me whatever I needed to hear. And now I’m out of luck. Dad’s dead, Mom has lost her marbles.
So, I get to head down this road myself. Finding out how to make myself happy by myself. Just me. No validation from the peanut gallery. No boyfriend to beg for love. How about I just stay in bed?
Going forward with therapy I want to know what I’m going through. I thought I had dependency issues. Nope, I have built up anxiety. My dad ran away after the divorce, well my mom kinda chased him away. I was freaked out that I would lose her too. That she would drop me off with my grandma or an aunt and I was afraid that she'd never come back. She worked full time and took care of three girls. A teenager, a tween and me, the baby. I was potty training when my parents separated. I have vague memories of my little toilet sitting next to the big toilet in bathroom. Thank god I have no memory of shitting my diaper.
What I do remember is that my sisters were rock solid for me. They dug in their heels and did their best to protect me. Sure, L* and I fought like it was WW3, but she was right there with me eating american cheese singles in the closet while our parents fought in the kitchen. I was angry, I took it on L*. Not even angry, more like confused and unsure.
Friday, July 22, 2011
mediocre
Seeing a therapist. Getting an opinion on me is good. What I see as an emotional dependency issue is probably actually deeply rooted anxiety. I search for external ways to find approval instead of finding the strength within myself.
I have an appointment next week to see a neuro-psychologist. Brain testing. The therapist said that she thinks I’ll be diagnosed with ADHD.
From the time I can remember, my brain hasn’t been helping me. I have a majority of the ADHD symptoms and if medication finally sets the noggin right, then so be it.
Yep, anxiety. Can’t relax, head isn’t clear, pre-occupied. Didn’t learn self coping mechanisms as a child, messed up now.
Lame post.
I have an appointment next week to see a neuro-psychologist. Brain testing. The therapist said that she thinks I’ll be diagnosed with ADHD.
From the time I can remember, my brain hasn’t been helping me. I have a majority of the ADHD symptoms and if medication finally sets the noggin right, then so be it.
Yep, anxiety. Can’t relax, head isn’t clear, pre-occupied. Didn’t learn self coping mechanisms as a child, messed up now.
Lame post.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Parallel to the ground
Tonight I went for a walk with L* and K* and I wanted to say, “I miss Dad,” but the words didn’t come out. Maybe because I knew that L* would say that she missed him too.
My dad and I weren’t close, but there’s something about not having a father that makes me feel empty. My mom lost her mom at age 94 and I know she feels the same. Losing a parent means losing a part of yourself. You have memories, but it’s not the same.
A few days later
I went through a really bad funk for a few days. Seem to be better today. Stayed in bed until about 2:30pm. Didn’t push myself until my body was ready to get up and move on. It’s not a matter of being lazy, but allowing my body to take its time. Forcing myself will only result in more anxiety. Of course not forcing myself out leaves me less time to complete class work. Trying to do class work while in a funk is useless.
I have to give myself permission to regroup and hope that those around me understand. The most important thing for me when I’m having an episode of anxiety is to feel safe and not pushed. Facing the world in the middle of an anxiety episode will only make it worse, not take my mind off of it. A person that does not experience debilitating anxiety will not understand this. They will tell me to push through it or you’ll feel better if you go outside. No, no I won’t. Until I find the right medication to alleviate the symptoms of anxiety, then respecting my body is the only way to go.
On the relationship front, Fisher and I agree that long distant relationships suck. However, I seem to need more communication than him. Fuck if I know what’s going on his head. When we’re together, it’s awesome. Two people, one mind, that kinda stuff. But apart it gets all funky. We’ve been through this- for 15 freakin’ years. I need more than he’s able to give. Ok, yes, when we first started dating, I was obsessively needy in a very bad way. Now, I’d like for him to respond to my emails, which are 3 at max/week. How about a conversation to touch base once a week?
Sure, in a year maybe we’ll be able to live together. Facts are, though, that neither of us knows where we’ll be. I don’t like the idea of moving back to College Town, USA. Mental ickness. I’d like to get out of the Midwest. I’d love to go back to the west coast, but it’s so damn expensive. East coast might me ok, but I really do not like cold.
When I come out of it and I’m parallel to the ground, I feel stable. Why can’t I just stay this way? Where would I be if I weren’t fighting this sh*t? I’d be on Broadway putting my talents to use. The anxiety negates any artistic talent I have. And I have talent.
My dad and I weren’t close, but there’s something about not having a father that makes me feel empty. My mom lost her mom at age 94 and I know she feels the same. Losing a parent means losing a part of yourself. You have memories, but it’s not the same.
A few days later
I went through a really bad funk for a few days. Seem to be better today. Stayed in bed until about 2:30pm. Didn’t push myself until my body was ready to get up and move on. It’s not a matter of being lazy, but allowing my body to take its time. Forcing myself will only result in more anxiety. Of course not forcing myself out leaves me less time to complete class work. Trying to do class work while in a funk is useless.
I have to give myself permission to regroup and hope that those around me understand. The most important thing for me when I’m having an episode of anxiety is to feel safe and not pushed. Facing the world in the middle of an anxiety episode will only make it worse, not take my mind off of it. A person that does not experience debilitating anxiety will not understand this. They will tell me to push through it or you’ll feel better if you go outside. No, no I won’t. Until I find the right medication to alleviate the symptoms of anxiety, then respecting my body is the only way to go.
On the relationship front, Fisher and I agree that long distant relationships suck. However, I seem to need more communication than him. Fuck if I know what’s going on his head. When we’re together, it’s awesome. Two people, one mind, that kinda stuff. But apart it gets all funky. We’ve been through this- for 15 freakin’ years. I need more than he’s able to give. Ok, yes, when we first started dating, I was obsessively needy in a very bad way. Now, I’d like for him to respond to my emails, which are 3 at max/week. How about a conversation to touch base once a week?
Sure, in a year maybe we’ll be able to live together. Facts are, though, that neither of us knows where we’ll be. I don’t like the idea of moving back to College Town, USA. Mental ickness. I’d like to get out of the Midwest. I’d love to go back to the west coast, but it’s so damn expensive. East coast might me ok, but I really do not like cold.
When I come out of it and I’m parallel to the ground, I feel stable. Why can’t I just stay this way? Where would I be if I weren’t fighting this sh*t? I’d be on Broadway putting my talents to use. The anxiety negates any artistic talent I have. And I have talent.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Checking In
I'm a little bit overcome right now and all the thoughts in my head are like knotted spaghetti.
Fisher and I are going to give it another go. He did make it up this past weekend. Long distance sucks, but being with him will make it worth it.
My cat, R*, went into an insulin seizure yesterday. His glucose level dropped to a very scary low number. I'll bring him home tomorrow. No insulin for him over the weekend and he'll go back to the vet on Monday for all day glucose monitoring.
We lost power Monday morning and we just got it back this evening. Hard to do on-line classes with no power. Even at the library it was difficult to concentrate.
Anything that has substance is bogged down in my head. Maybe it will make its way here.
Fisher and I are going to give it another go. He did make it up this past weekend. Long distance sucks, but being with him will make it worth it.
My cat, R*, went into an insulin seizure yesterday. His glucose level dropped to a very scary low number. I'll bring him home tomorrow. No insulin for him over the weekend and he'll go back to the vet on Monday for all day glucose monitoring.
We lost power Monday morning and we just got it back this evening. Hard to do on-line classes with no power. Even at the library it was difficult to concentrate.
Anything that has substance is bogged down in my head. Maybe it will make its way here.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
All the money in the world
Not sure why I’m here. Here at 1am and here in this world. Took my dog, S*, to the vet the other day for a routine, rabies shot visit. Blood work shows elevated liver enzyme. She’s on antibiotics for two weeks. People and animals keep dying, so her having an infection freaks me out a bit. She’s my girl, my best friend. Sleeps at the foot of my bed, wakes up happy, goes to sleep happy.
My mom called me this evening. Her world is becoming more chaotic and I have no means to help her. We’ll just have to wait until she’s at the bottom and wants help.
Won 3/5 scrabble games with L* and K*. That never happens. For the past 35 years, I have never won at a board game against L*. She’s very competitive. It’s all in good fun, but she’s like, “what the hell?” And I’m like, fuck I don’t know, I just did what you guys did to win.
Haven’t heard from Fisher in about a month. Up until this Sunday I understood. Back to back shows, burnt out… The dates I gave him will be here very soon. Would be nice to have a firm yay or nay. But that’s what killed all of this before. I was never a priority. Well maybe when we first started dating.
I’d like to be some one’s priority when making plans. To have enough worth to someone that I’m taken into consideration when plans are made. That would be nice.
Saw Cirque’s Ova this evening. Made me miss lighting design. Something about theatre lighting, the texture that’s like a watercolor on heavy textured canvas. Like a plush pillow you want to spend a Sunday on. Awkward sentence. Maybe you know what I mean.
I wish the depression hadn’t sucked me down to having no ambition. I have/had the talent. I couldn’t clear the fog.
I would hate to think that he’s decided that it would be better that he didn’t come up and just isn’t telling me that. Or that there was line I crossed- like sending him a mix cd.
Christ on a f*cking cracker.
Need to sleep so that tomorrow I’m productive with doing homework.
My mom called me this evening. Her world is becoming more chaotic and I have no means to help her. We’ll just have to wait until she’s at the bottom and wants help.
Won 3/5 scrabble games with L* and K*. That never happens. For the past 35 years, I have never won at a board game against L*. She’s very competitive. It’s all in good fun, but she’s like, “what the hell?” And I’m like, fuck I don’t know, I just did what you guys did to win.
Haven’t heard from Fisher in about a month. Up until this Sunday I understood. Back to back shows, burnt out… The dates I gave him will be here very soon. Would be nice to have a firm yay or nay. But that’s what killed all of this before. I was never a priority. Well maybe when we first started dating.
I’d like to be some one’s priority when making plans. To have enough worth to someone that I’m taken into consideration when plans are made. That would be nice.
Saw Cirque’s Ova this evening. Made me miss lighting design. Something about theatre lighting, the texture that’s like a watercolor on heavy textured canvas. Like a plush pillow you want to spend a Sunday on. Awkward sentence. Maybe you know what I mean.
I wish the depression hadn’t sucked me down to having no ambition. I have/had the talent. I couldn’t clear the fog.
I would hate to think that he’s decided that it would be better that he didn’t come up and just isn’t telling me that. Or that there was line I crossed- like sending him a mix cd.
Christ on a f*cking cracker.
Need to sleep so that tomorrow I’m productive with doing homework.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
M* A* B*-H*
Fuck this. Went to the head doc today- Pills for depression aren't working. Fall asleep at 3am, sleep for 10 hours, no drive, no ambition.
No ambian, wouldn't have minded clonopin. Got generic for ativan and that not doing shit. Took one, nothing, took another, nothing.
Shrink appt in 3 weeks.
Fuck at some point you have to let go of the person you're holding onto. I need to get my head on straight and figure out what's going on.
Pushing through school work, getting stuff done.
My soul, that place in your chest that feels so good when your in love and hurts like a m'fucker when it's broke. It's wilted. No get up and go.
For my reader(s) in Germany- thank you.
My great-great grandfather was Prussian. He came to the states around or after the Franco-Prussian War. He married a Protestant lady and our future contact with our Jewish roots ended. Emil Block. My great-grand father was first generation. And my maternal grandmother second generation. I miss my grandma quite a bit. It was always great to be around her. She was this force who spoke her mind, but was still caring. She went through a lot in her life, experience that hardened her. She always seem more optimistic than not and quick with a laugh. F' do I miss her.
So, there was a saying that her grandfather taught her and it translated to - you're some so dumb the geese would eat you.
I wish we would have written down the German words.
Although we're European mixed, we seem to run more UK and Germany.
No ambian, wouldn't have minded clonopin. Got generic for ativan and that not doing shit. Took one, nothing, took another, nothing.
Shrink appt in 3 weeks.
Fuck at some point you have to let go of the person you're holding onto. I need to get my head on straight and figure out what's going on.
Pushing through school work, getting stuff done.
My soul, that place in your chest that feels so good when your in love and hurts like a m'fucker when it's broke. It's wilted. No get up and go.
For my reader(s) in Germany- thank you.
My great-great grandfather was Prussian. He came to the states around or after the Franco-Prussian War. He married a Protestant lady and our future contact with our Jewish roots ended. Emil Block. My great-grand father was first generation. And my maternal grandmother second generation. I miss my grandma quite a bit. It was always great to be around her. She was this force who spoke her mind, but was still caring. She went through a lot in her life, experience that hardened her. She always seem more optimistic than not and quick with a laugh. F' do I miss her.
So, there was a saying that her grandfather taught her and it translated to - you're some so dumb the geese would eat you.
I wish we would have written down the German words.
Although we're European mixed, we seem to run more UK and Germany.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Slightly dustier with a chance of panic.
It’s late, I’m awake. I could work on homework. Blah. Taking three on-line classes and it’s kinda kicking my butt. I hate writing papers. The end. And I hate memorizing. That’s why I was a good art student. Projects, make pretty things.
Now though, 35, unemployed, back in school. 100 level business class. Reading dry, boring textbooks. Unable to form complete sentences.
Seeing a psychiatrist next week. I need a touchstone. Not that I don’t love it here, but here won’t solve any problems.
So, I would like a family of my own. A nice, comfortable family consisting of a few furry beasts and a man. I don’t want that right now, but at some point in the medium future.
My hands are showing my age. Actually I think they look older than I actually am. My mom had these hands when she was in her late 40s and now I have them 10 years too soon.
Draw a horizontal line. Label it content. Somewhere above the line is manic, way down below is severe depression. I never get above that horizontal line. Let’s say severe depression, the worst is a -10. I average a -2. Right now I’m a -3, sometimes almost -4. Occasionally I get on the positive side.
Used to be, in my early 20s I held onto pain and anger, afraid that if I let go, then I would float away. Now, it’s different. It’s age and experience weighing me down. Oh, and present situations. Now, I float between -2 and slightly over zero. I float wrapped in a blanket. I warm cozy blanket that induces sleep. Want to crawl into bed and stay there.
My bed is my safe place. My happy place. The world does not exist when I am in my bed. A floating raft of safety and calm. Can’t hurt me in my bed. That’s not true, but I like the idea.
Funny that because I can’t fall asleep during normal sleepy hours. Bring on the daytime sleeping. I feel safer falling asleep in the day. My mind isn’t as noisy. At night too many not all together content thing wander through my head. Slightly dustier with a chance of panic.
Now though, 35, unemployed, back in school. 100 level business class. Reading dry, boring textbooks. Unable to form complete sentences.
Seeing a psychiatrist next week. I need a touchstone. Not that I don’t love it here, but here won’t solve any problems.
So, I would like a family of my own. A nice, comfortable family consisting of a few furry beasts and a man. I don’t want that right now, but at some point in the medium future.
My hands are showing my age. Actually I think they look older than I actually am. My mom had these hands when she was in her late 40s and now I have them 10 years too soon.
Draw a horizontal line. Label it content. Somewhere above the line is manic, way down below is severe depression. I never get above that horizontal line. Let’s say severe depression, the worst is a -10. I average a -2. Right now I’m a -3, sometimes almost -4. Occasionally I get on the positive side.
Used to be, in my early 20s I held onto pain and anger, afraid that if I let go, then I would float away. Now, it’s different. It’s age and experience weighing me down. Oh, and present situations. Now, I float between -2 and slightly over zero. I float wrapped in a blanket. I warm cozy blanket that induces sleep. Want to crawl into bed and stay there.
My bed is my safe place. My happy place. The world does not exist when I am in my bed. A floating raft of safety and calm. Can’t hurt me in my bed. That’s not true, but I like the idea.
Funny that because I can’t fall asleep during normal sleepy hours. Bring on the daytime sleeping. I feel safer falling asleep in the day. My mind isn’t as noisy. At night too many not all together content thing wander through my head. Slightly dustier with a chance of panic.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Old Enough
I’m old enough to learn from my mistakes- I will do that.
I am old enough to know that reacting the same over and over again to the same situation will not change the outcome.
I am old enough to know that my love for myself must be more important than my lust for anyone.
I am old enough that sometimes a door must stay shut. Nothing has changed behind that door. The contents are the same. Repaint the door, put on a kick plate, a fancy door knocker. The contents are the same.
Growing up sucks. I will do my best to have as few regrets as possible. If I love, I will be honest in my love. At some point having too many regrets about the same thing is just douchery. Dumbass-ness.
I am old enough to know that reacting the same over and over again to the same situation will not change the outcome.
I am old enough to know that my love for myself must be more important than my lust for anyone.
I am old enough that sometimes a door must stay shut. Nothing has changed behind that door. The contents are the same. Repaint the door, put on a kick plate, a fancy door knocker. The contents are the same.
Growing up sucks. I will do my best to have as few regrets as possible. If I love, I will be honest in my love. At some point having too many regrets about the same thing is just douchery. Dumbass-ness.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
No good can come of that.
My id has a nemesis and last night my ego decided to dream about this person. If I were to see this person out and about, I would try to beat the crap out of her. My hatred runs that deep. Strange since I was willing to forgive her co-conspirator.
My last boyfriend cheated on me with his best friend’s girlfriend. Thinking about all of that makes me sick to my stomach. The fact that I accepted his excuses makes me even sicker. And it took me two and a half years to leave him. I didn’t try to convince him or myself that I was in love with him after he cheated. I carried on because I didn’t have it in me to uproot my life. Sad but true- I stayed for my dog and cats. Staying meant a bigger apartment instead of moving into a hole in the wall by myself or moving back to the Midwest.
When the sh*t hit the fan, I had three cats and my dog, my sister, who I now live with, had two dogs and a cat, plus husband. I couldn’t do it. But over time I gathered my strength. I kept track of his assery. Each time he was a douche, I filed it away in the folder marked, “this is why I’m leaving.” Moving out sucked, but I remembered all those times he was an ass.
Funny, now the nemesis has a kid with her then boyfriend and from all f*cebook stalking accounts, they are still together. She got pregnant 3-4 months after the cheating.
So, last night I dreamt about this chick. And it’s a vivid dream with lots of emotion and he’s there too. Anger, betrayal. Not having the full ability to kick the crap out of both of them. Now because of the dream she’s in my mind eye and it makes me sick. I wish a could mentally vomit her out of my mind. Thank god she was never a friend of mine.
The last boyfriend and I were together for four years. My longest continuous relationship. Walking away and staying quiet is a challenge. I want to yell at him, but calling him is a can of worms that needs to stay shut. No good can come from that.
So, what do I do? I dig up older skeletons.
My last boyfriend cheated on me with his best friend’s girlfriend. Thinking about all of that makes me sick to my stomach. The fact that I accepted his excuses makes me even sicker. And it took me two and a half years to leave him. I didn’t try to convince him or myself that I was in love with him after he cheated. I carried on because I didn’t have it in me to uproot my life. Sad but true- I stayed for my dog and cats. Staying meant a bigger apartment instead of moving into a hole in the wall by myself or moving back to the Midwest.
When the sh*t hit the fan, I had three cats and my dog, my sister, who I now live with, had two dogs and a cat, plus husband. I couldn’t do it. But over time I gathered my strength. I kept track of his assery. Each time he was a douche, I filed it away in the folder marked, “this is why I’m leaving.” Moving out sucked, but I remembered all those times he was an ass.
Funny, now the nemesis has a kid with her then boyfriend and from all f*cebook stalking accounts, they are still together. She got pregnant 3-4 months after the cheating.
So, last night I dreamt about this chick. And it’s a vivid dream with lots of emotion and he’s there too. Anger, betrayal. Not having the full ability to kick the crap out of both of them. Now because of the dream she’s in my mind eye and it makes me sick. I wish a could mentally vomit her out of my mind. Thank god she was never a friend of mine.
The last boyfriend and I were together for four years. My longest continuous relationship. Walking away and staying quiet is a challenge. I want to yell at him, but calling him is a can of worms that needs to stay shut. No good can come from that.
So, what do I do? I dig up older skeletons.
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